


children of war

by levintiana



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Childhood, Flashback, Gen, Ionia - Freeform, Kayn, League of Legends - Freeform, Noxus, Other, Runeterra, ZED DADDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD, Zed - Freeform, dad zed, father - Freeform, ionian, noxian, shieda kayn - Freeform, woooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo, zed and kayn, zed and kayn father son, zed and shieda kayn, zed dad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-20 22:34:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30011952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levintiana/pseuds/levintiana
Summary: kayn and zed's first interaction; the boy is chained to a tree, clinging to life
Relationships: Kayn (League of Legends) - Relationship, Kayn - Relationship, Shieda Kayn (League of Legends)/Original Character(s), Shieda Kayn - Relationship, Zed (League of Legends) - Relationship, Zed - Relationship
Comments: 3
Kudos: 17





	children of war

**Author's Note:**

> ellllloo :D some more zed dad fic because i miss him!!!!!!!  
> some context:  
> -the < > within the speech quotations means that the language being spoken is noxian bc kayn doesnt know anything else  
> -kayn is 6-8 years old instead of the canonical 10  
> -zed is roughly 22  
> -based off the zed comic panels in which kayn is actually. yk. chained 2 a damn Tree  
> -i bent some lore stuff to fit this fic bc i feel like it :P  
> -also yeah i know kayn's canonically an orphan but i like to think his mom is still chilling in noxus somewhere lol  
> -it's 6 a.m i am not liable for doodoo writing

In Noxus, a mother cried out for the loss of her son; a young child mercilessly whisked away to be used as nothing more than a replaceable pawn in a militarian game of chess. A young child, so tragically fated to suffer the same demise as the hundreds of others like himself on an unfamiliar Ionian island, separated from home by a vast ocean. Now, the very son of the grief-stricken mother was the one who cried, for he believed himself to be staring death in the face just moments away from meeting his end — under the impression that it would perhaps soon be over. 

A tall figure clad in iron armor and red drapes advanced towards Kayn's small form on the ground, and the boy became dead-set on disallowing any further approach. He'd bite and claw and hit if need be, for the eyes of a child so distraught sees not the intentions behind the ominous stranger looming over him. He had long since discarded the helmet he wore to reveal his face to the young Noxian, as not to frighten him further, though it did not help in soothing Kayn’s nerves much. All Zed was able to see laid out in front of him was a hissy child with knotted black hair, puffing himself up like a feral kitten, shouting louder for every step he took forwards.

The boy thrashed, kicked, wailed, hissed, and spat in a cacophony of distress, yelling singular phrases and words of protest Zed could only make out to be dialect from Noxus's capital. He lowered himself onto his knee to meet Kayn's fearful eyes, reaching swiftly to grab hold of his slim and bruised wrists in hopes of disarming the sickle he callously brandished. The child screeched in response, only for Zed to then notice the deep purple and blue splotches littered across his milky skin where he had unknowingly gripped onto. 

<"No, no! No!">, Kayn cried through the sharp cracks in his voice, hopelessly attempting to pull his feeble arms away from the man's grasp. <"Don't touch me!">

He viciously threw jabs and punches at Zed, all of which were stopped with a flat palm angled at ninety degrees. The cuffs and shackles around Kayn’s ankles bound him to the tree by a metal chain, preventing any poor means of escape as he stood weakly among the littered corpses of the Ionians he'd slain with just a mere wheat scythe. Zed maintained a firm hold on the weapon the boy held, uttering small words of comfort in hopes that he'd quickly exhaust himself of energy to conclude the fight he was putting up. He managed to loosen the grip of the tool and tossed it aside to fall onto the dead grass with a soft thud, yet his interest was not at all in the sickle.

<"Calm yourself,"> Zed tried, repeating himself again only louder when the child continued to flail in his clutches. <"I am not here to harm you, but you must be still.">

Upon reaching to calmly restrain Kayn's left hand, it was his nails that he instinctively lunged forwards with to tear a gash through the man's face, drawing a constant stream of fresh blood down beside his eye until it slowly dripped from his chin. It stained his white eyebrow a bright crimson as it continued to flow from the ripped flesh all while the boy fell backwards onto the grass stained drenched in dried blood which reeked of iron, to cower so fiercely, were he nothing short of a stray deer facing down the barrel of a hunter's shotgun. Awestruck and dazed by the stinging and burning sensation above his eye, Zed could only hold his brow to reduce the flow of blood while still on his knee.

Zed's men stood around and watched on in horror as the disheveled boy struggled with their leader. Some shook their heads in annoyance, tutting and mumbling amongst themselves while gazing upon the view in front of them; a scrawny child striking the bold Master of their order. One man came forward to seek his Zed's attention with a blade drawn in his hand.

"Sir, if I may — the boy is clearly a danger to us," he suggested. "He is Noxian—"

"He is frightened." Zed corrected, shouting over the other man's voice while his own trembled slightly. He was ashamed that the men he led were such cowards, as to fear a startled child. Setting their complaints aside, he turned to the matter at hand and seeked to reconcile with the young one frantically leaning away from him.

Kayn did not understand a word they spoke. He found himself wondering what they discussed, and what the reason was for the change in the tone of voice coming from the man showing interest in him. When Zed knelt closer to him, Kayn cried, and breathlessly pushed forward with his leg in attempts to ward him off despite how powerless he truly was.

The injury he inflicted onto Zed may not have fared as badly if Kayn's long nails had not fiercely dug into the man's pale and sensitive skin, relentlessly dragging and slashing their way through the tissue down to reach his cheekbone in a crescent-like shape. He looked downwards to the small child curled up on the ground, hauntingly glancing up at him through tear-filled eyes dimmed wearily with the most dismal of ambers. He'd reach for the sickle again, if it was still within his grasp.

<"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to! I'm sorry!"> Kayn bawled, now resorting to begging for his life. <"Please! I'm sorry!" Don't kill me!">

Zed cocked the other eyebrow which had not been touched, still rendered speechless at how hard he had been struck by the sobbing Noxian before him. Having worked with children during his medical training prior to his disbandment of the Kinkou, he had never once met any as restless as the mess of a boy sprawled on the ground in front of him. It had been evidently clear in that moment that this particular one was different, and that there was still a fight left in him despite the horrific state Noxus had left him in. 

The darkest of purple shadows had been etched into the skin beneath his worn out eyes which had not seen rest for days. He struggled even to stand, with legs bending inwards at the knees. Several cuts across his skin were exposed to the biting winds through the rips in his tattered clothes more akin to rags, and upon the slightest of head turns, Zed could see the dry blood and scars left on his ear; courtesy of his torn lobe and shattered cartilage, along with several other tears in his flesh. The cracks of his dry lips implied he had not seen water in days, as did the ribs and bones poking through his skin speak to him, to say that all he had managed to eat were the leaves and blades of grass surrounding the tree he had been confined to — if anything at all.

Zed wiped the blood from his face with his forearm and slowly approached Kayn again, whose chest heaved rapidly while he choked on his tears. Through the shaky breaths and his breaking voice, Zed could vaguely understand the small plea being asked of him in the language foreign to him, yet not unknown. 

<"Don't kill me.">

Zed reached forward to gently place his hand on Kayn's shoulder. The boy kicked at him, pushing himself backwards to avoid his touch. But his grip was not vice; he was gentle with him, and kind. Something that Kayn was hardly familiar with. He steals only a glance upwards when Zed's eyes are grazing over him again and again, wondering how this tormented and forgotten child of Noxus still carries strength in him to fight. His pitiful looks are telling, yet they are calming; reassuring in their own way somehow. Kayn flinched at the contact, lip quivering, yet there was nowhere to run. Perhaps the man would skip the pleasantries he faked so menacingly to coax the boy into trusting him, and put an end to the misery, quickly, mercifully, with a swift slash to the neck and— 

Sure enough, there it was; the loud shinking of a steel blade. Zed had gripped the leather strap on the inside of his gauntlet and shifted his ring finger to release the weapon from inside its metal sheath, allowing it to extend to its maximum range. Kayn's stomach dropped instantly and his throat tightened, but began readying himself for what was to follow. He was far too tired to resist, or fight anymore. He took a final sharp breath and let his eyelids rest naturally, hands clasped together on his lap the way he had been taught during his training. It was better to die this way, they said. To know it was coming. At least then, it wouldn't come as too much of a shock. He heard only Zed's footsteps tread lightly on the grass, awaiting the swing to come down on his throat, yet it never did.

Instead, the man had turned to the shackles cast tight around his ankle, and began to cut away at the iron chains binding him to the tree; the only place Kayn had despairingly known for the last few days. The flakes and filings of metal fell to the dirt, and within moments Kayn's leg was free from the restraints. He was confused, so, so confused. Why was it that he was being helped? Ionians were not to be trusted, they had said. Yet, here he was, being assisted by the very enemy he swore to cut down.

<"Let's see your hands."> Zed asked quietly before holding his own out, waiting for Kayn to extend the favour. In a brief moment of hesitation, he almost refused. But something about the man in front of him seemed so strangely warm, that when the man reached to take his hand, Kayn’s freezing and clammy knuckles and fingers were met with Zed’s soft skin, and he became docile. Complying, he allowed him to see them. His palm had been cut with something, and Zed could tell that when he received the wound that the blood did not clot as expected. It now served as a dried up, half-opened mess which practically begged for infection unless treated immediately.

Zed retrieved a roll of fresh bandages from the bag tethered to his waist by a rope. He turned Kayn's palm over and began weaving the linen between his fingers and over the back of his hand. His practice was neat and comforting, as if he had done this countless times before, and Kayn struggled to keep his eyes open as his hands were carefully wrapped with the white cloth. Zed had experience to his name from spending his teenage years as a medic, dealing with both adults and young children, and he would utilize his skills whenever necessary despite how long it’s been. Whenever Kayn could look, he stared at the jarring mark he had left on Zed's face. Half of the blood was still wet in small streams down the side of his temple and it had left a red dye attached to his eyebrow. He was unaware of why Zed had been so kind to him thus far.

<"I will help you to change them later,"> Zed spoke softly as he finished securing the bandages. <"Now, are you able to stand?">

Still frozen with fear and wishing to remain cautious, Kayn slowly rose to his bruised feet and risked doubling over back onto the ground as he shook. His vision turned to a mess of grey stars and dotted patterns as he glanced around, waiting for the dizziness behind his eyes to subside. Without speaking, he nodded, though his legs threatened to give out from beneath him. He winced through his obvious limp though it was clear he would not be capable of walking. Within moments of standing up from the bloodsoaked grass, Kayn partially returned to it. Zed caught his limp body in his arms before he could fully tumble to the ground, shifting the exhausted child to lay across his lap. With a dip of Kayn’s head, he rested it under Zed’s chin until he succumbed to the fatigue enveloping him, blanking out entirely from the days’ worth of fatigue wearing him down.

_________________________________

When he awoke he found himself being carried along a trail, far from the tree he had been tethered to. The hillscapes surrounding him were unfamiliar, and the breeze that swept through his tattered black hair was not the same breeze of home. His mouth was not bone-dry like it had been, and he felt the warmth of a red scarf much too big for him wrapped loosely around his neck. Through hazy eyes adjusting to the darkness of the late evening, he glanced up to the man holding him and slowly hugged himself closer to the warmth of his chest. Zed noticed the boy stir, and continued to walk along the pathway towards the distant gleam of golden lanterns and fire. The sun had long since set and it now neared midnight, the stars stringing themselves along in the sky against the inky darkness. His men trudged far ahead of him, as he himself insisted on staying behind to care for the child much to their objections and jeers. It would not be long until they both reached the temporary camp set up by the order, where he could properly tend to Kayn’s wounds and provide him with a more comforting environment.

He remained unsure of what he’d even do with the child; a twenty-two-year old rogue assassin post-abandonment of his own kin surely had no business raising a son during a war. He found great difficulty keeping his own order in line, after its foundation just the previous spring. But when the boy sleepily draped his arm over his shoulder and mumbled something of a ‘’thank you’’ under his little breaths in a dream-like state, Zed knew that it was a chance worth taking.


End file.
